The first time he saw her, she was hidden in a crowd, just another face in the faceless mass of petitioners who came to ask justice of him. He wouldn't even have noticed her if it hadn't been for the way she had fixed him with her gaze. Men would cower when he locked eyes with them, but not her. She stared back at him, until finally, he turned his head, unable to face her any longer.

"You know why I'm here, m'lord," she said when it was her turn at last, a faint smile on her lips.

Her hair was dark, and her face was sweet. She hadn't aged a day since he had last seen her. This cannot be, he knew. Yet there she was, her eyes still fixed on him, relentless, unyielding. Dead eyes, he thought. The last time I saw her, her body was alive, but those eyes were dead.

"I don't," he heard himself say, "And I can't read your thoughts, so state your case or make room for the next petitioner."

"You know why I'm here," she repeated. "I want justice."

Blood was dripping down her legs and onto the black marble floor. The faint smell of metal in the air turned his stomach.

"All the people in this hall want justice for one thing or another. Now tell me why you're here, or I'll have you thrown in the dungeon for making a mock of the king's court of petitions."

This time, she laughed at him, a sweet laugh like the sound of silver bells. "You know why I'm here."

He raised his hand, and the guards stepped forward, grabbing the girl by her arms. But even as she was dragged away, she kept smiling.

It was still dark when he awoke in his bed. The first thing he noticed was the shadow in the corner, and he instantly knew there was someone in the room with him. He wanted to ring the bell above his bed, but try as he might, he simply couldn't move.

His heart started racing as he tried again and again to turn his body, to push himself up, to reach out with his hand just far enough to grip the cord dangling right over his head. But he was trapped in his body, unable to move a muscle.

All he could do was watch helplessly as the shadow moved closer until he could see its face from the corner of his eye. You're down in the dungeons, he thought. You can't be here. You're locked up. Her smile was menacing now, her eyes like two pieces of coal glowing in the dark.

He tried with all his might to move a toe, a finger, anything that would break the spell. She bent over his immobilized body, pressing down on his chest, slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs. Struggle all you want, she seemed to say. You won't break out of this. You're mine.

He tried to shout for help, but all that escaped his lips was a soft gurgling sound as she choked him with the weight of her body. His lungs were burning and he couldn't breathe. The more he panicked the heavier she seemed to get. I'll die, he realized. She's going to suffocate me.

He woke up drenched in sweat. It was only a night terror, he thought. A bad dream, that's all. He took a deep breath.

But when he turned his head, the first thing he saw was the silver stag on his bedside table.

You're mine now, a voice in his head said. I'll come back for you, night after night, until the debt is paid.